


Humble

by manixzen



Series: Kinkuary 2021 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Plug, BDSM, Cock and Ball Torture, D/s relationship, Dom Harry Potter, HP Kinkuary 2021, Humbler, Impact Play, M/M, Overstimulation, Punishment, Sub Draco Malfoy, safe words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manixzen/pseuds/manixzen
Summary: After snarkily insulting one of Harry’s co-workers at a gathering, Draco needs a lesson in humility. Harry has just the thing for that.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Kinkuary 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137941
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	Humble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avaeryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaeryn/gifts).



> If you aren’t familiar with a humbler, check out this [sexy-as hell-art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812572) by the amazing and talented, [chuckal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckAl/pseuds/ChuckAl)! (check out the art even if you are too). 
> 
> HP Kinkuary, Day 21  
> Prompt: Overstimulation
> 
> I got impatient and included overstimulation on Day 8’s fic, so here's another one! 
> 
> Chuck ([chuckal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckAl/pseuds/ChuckAl)), thank you so much for the excellent beta and for always being so supportive. I appreciate you so much!
> 
> Ava, my love, here’s a gift to you with your ping pong paddle scene.

Harry closed the door to Grimmauld Place, jaw set, and strode into the sitting room as Draco followed behind. 

“Harry, it’s not like he even knew I was insulting him,” Draco drawled, but Harry could hear it for the defensive gesture it was. Draco knew he’d messed up. 

“Oh, that makes it so much better?” Harry turned to him. “That he didn’t even understand it was an insult? That you— what was it you said again?”

Draco flushed. 

Harry levelled a look at him until Draco squirmed under the attention.

“That I heard ‘Canadian Vampire Chic’ was in this year,” Draco replied. 

“Right,” Harry said, crossing his arms. 

Draco rolled his eyes, but a flush crept up his face. “His shirt was flannel and black on grey plaid!” Draco exclaimed. “And he wore it with a black suit and tie!"

“And why is that your business?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

Draco’s confidence started to waver, and he glanced off to the side of the room.

“Draco?”

“It’s not,” he finally huffed. 

“What’s the rule?”

“That I need to be polite to your friends and co-workers.”

“And did you break that rule?” 

Draco’s face flushed a deeper red. The only thing he hated more than admitting he was wrong was Harry forcing it out of him. 

“Yes,” Draco ground out. 

“And what’s the punishment for breaking that rule?”

“No play for the whole weekend,” he said. “But, Harry, I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week, and you know how awful work was this—”

“Stop,” Harry said, putting up his hand before Draco could go into a full-blown strop. 

Draco huffed but stayed silent. 

“I’ll give you a choice.”

Draco perked up at that, but Harry knew he wasn’t going to like this choice. 

“Since you were once again a snob around my co-workers, I think you could use some humbling.” Harry waited for the moment Draco caught his meaning and raised an eyebrow before Draco could protest. “So, a choice. We can cancel our plans tonight and this whole weekend as your punishment, or you can wear the humbler tonight and maybe if you’re good, we can even play later.”

“Harry,” Draco said, frustration clear on his face. “I hate the humbler.”

“I know, love,” Harry said, unable to stop his mouth from curving into a smile. It was a fitting punishment, but if Draco really didn’t want to wear it, he could opt for no play at all. It wasn’t a hard limit for the man, but Draco hated it—how he was forced on his hands and knees—free to move but still restricted, unable to stand or even stretch out. 

Draco closed his eyes. “Fine.”

“What’s that?”

“I choose the humbler.” Draco opened his eyes with a huff. “Sir.”

Harry smiled. He loved the humbler probably as much as Draco hated it.

“I’m going to go upstairs to change,” Harry said, tone firm. “Get undressed and clean yourself up with some spells.” 

“Yes, sir,” Draco said automatically. 

Harry could sense the excitement and anticipation radiating off him, no matter how much he whined about it. Draco loved intense play—particularly the type with just enough pain to send him floating off on endorphins.

While Draco got ready, Harry headed upstairs to the guest bedroom where his clothes had been relegated. Even with added wizarding space, Draco’s wardrobe had quickly filled the whole walk-in. 

Harry pulled off his tie and tossed his suit coat on the guest bed. He'd been thrilled when Mugglewear had become en vogue and then even moved into the mainstream after the war. But he’d been less thrilled when he realized that he’d still be expected to wear a suit if he didn’t want to wear dress robes. After tossing on some jeans, he hung up his jacket and trousers, lest Draco yell at him for mistreating his nice clothes.

Harry then started to grab a simple black t-shirt but stopped as he had a thought. With a smirk, he opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out his old and worn but still unreasonably bright orange Cannon’s t-shirt. It was easily the clothing item of Harry’s that Draco loathed the most. And it had been the source of more than a few bickering arguments.

In short, it was the perfect shirt for that night. A little extra pressure for Draco to have to keep his mouth shut about other people’s clothing choices, which would do him some good.

Harry then went into their bedroom and opened the middle drawer at the bottom of their wardrobe. He shuffled through the ropes and other bondage equipment but didn’t find the humbler. Harry knew he’d put it away in that drawer—for as much as a mess he was with his clothes, he kept their toys clean and perfectly organised. 

He closed the middle drawer and tried the bottom drawer instead. After some shuffling, Harry found the humbler buried in the very back, tucked under a velvet bag they used to pack their toys when they went on holiday. Apparently, Draco had been counting on out of sight, out of mind. Harry huffed a laugh and grabbed the velvet drawstring bag. He put the humbler in it, and then went through the drawers, thinking about his choices carefully.

Harry grabbed a curved plug that he knew would brush Draco’s prostate when he moved—just enough to keep him on edge, but not enough to force his release. 

Harry added the plug in the velvet bag and then pulled open the top drawer that held their impact play toys. Once in the humbler, Draco’s balls would be stretched back, locked in the long wooden device that curved around the back of both thighs, just under his pert arse. The humbler would force Draco to remain on his hands and knees, and any attempt to stretch out—standing up, taking too long of a stride on his knees, even—would pull painfully on his ball sack. 

But, also, the device would leave his balls tantalisingly vulnerable—pulled back and sensitive, so easily accessible. And Harry wanted to have some fun.

He settled on a black leather riding crop, and, then, knowing exactly how much Draco was going to want to protest, Harry grabbed his Muggle ping pong paddle. Harry wasn’t sure if Draco hated it more because of its Muggle garishness or because it was for, as Draco had once put it, “a primitive, plebeian sport.” Either way, being at the mercy of the red and green paddle was humiliating enough that Draco would be rock hard even as his face and chest flushed beautifully. 

Harry sat back on his heels and thought. While this was all likely to be fun for both of them, something was missing. He wanted Draco moving around, being forced to stay in the submissive and humbled position. Then, Harry had it. 

He put the toys in the velvet bag and headed back to the guest room. He dumped his dirty laundry on the floor, something he was sure Draco would yell at him about later but was worth it, for now, and opened back up his t-shirt drawer. The shirts were all jumbled up as he rarely bothered to fold them when putting away his laundry—another thing Draco commented on far too often. Harry gathered up the lot and unceremoniously dumped them in the basket. 

Then, tossing the velvet bag on top, he headed back down to the sitting room to find Draco facing the doorway, naked and flushed, kneeling in front of the sofa. 

Harry could feel the tension radiating off him; Draco always got nervous at the start of a scene, but by the time Harry was done with him he’d be absolutely boneless. 

As Harry approached, Draco’s position only wavered slightly, first a look of confusion at the laundry basket and then eyes narrowing when he saw Harry’s shirt. Likely knowing he was already in enough trouble for the night, he schooled his expression and dropped his eyes back down.

Harry bit back a soft smile, keeping himself in the role that he knew his husband loved so much. He then walked behind him and put the laundry basket down before grabbing the velvet bag. 

Harry stepped in front of Draco, crouched down and pulled the humbler out, placing it in on the floor in front of him. Then, he pulled out the other toys and did the same, cataloguing Draco’s reactions for each. Watching Draco fight through the anticipation and trepidation was always beautiful. Harry didn’t miss the slight shudder as his eyes trailed over the long humbler, nor did he miss the flash of indignation at the paddle.

“Problem, pet?” Harry said.

“No, sir,” Draco said, jutting out his chin.

“Always so defiant,” Harry said, running a finger underneath Draco’s chin and tilting his head up. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling Draco start to relax already.

As Harry pulled back, he saw Draco’s gaze shift back to the shirt. In fairness, it was hard to look at anything else, bright as it was, but Draco’s jaw tightened and Harry could see him fighting himself. Harry gave him a minute to make his decision.

Draco seemed to know he was being tested, though, and eventually sighed softly as if surrendering to the loud gaudy t-shirt.

“Hands and knees, then.”

Draco bent forward, lifting himself up on his knees. For all that his posture was perfect, Harry could see the pout in his whole demeanour. 

“Colour?” Harry asked. While Harry had no issues making Draco a bit miserable during play, he always wanted to make sure he wasn’t pushing his husband too far—even from the start. 

“Green, sir,” Draco said, sounding entirely put out. 

Harry huffed a laugh and pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead, before moving behind him. His husband was an absolute brat, but Harry wouldn't want him any other way.

“Don’t move.” Harry ran a hand down his back, then down his arse. Draco whined softly and pushed back. 

“Stay still.” Harry smacked him on the arse, even though he knew that was probably what Draco was going for. 

Draco straightened back out, though, and Harry ran his hand lower wrapping his fingers loosely around his balls and massaging them gently. 

Then, Harry grabbed the humbler and pulled apart the two pieces of slightly curved lacquered wood. He held the bottom one in place behind Draco’s thighs, just below the curve of Draco’s arse and, then, gently pulled Draco’s ball sac into the notched space that would keep them secure but not crushed.

Harry carefully set the other piece on top, securing his balls in between them and making sure not to pinch anything in the process. While their bondage and restraint toys were all charmed to ensure there would never be circulation issues, it was still important they were put on correctly. Once the two pieces were snug, Harry tapped on the wood in quick succession, magically securing and locking the pieces of wood together. 

Draco kept still on all fours, his balls pulled tight through the humbler, vulnerable and exposed in the contraption. Harry dragged his fingers along the velvety skin, knowing Draco would already be sensitive from being manhandled into the device. The slight pressure from where it squeezed his scrotum into the notched space would only enhance the sensation. 

Draco moaned softly, and Harry smiled, before putting out his hand and wandlessly summoning the plug. Harry trailed his thumb over Draco’s crack, pressing gently at his already lubricated hole. Harry pushed in slowly, pulling to the side and watching his hole stretch and flutter at the attention. He pulled out and cast a quick lubrication charm before pressing two fingers in, slowly fucking Draco with them. Draco rocked forward at the motion and then hissed as his balls were pulled tight. 

Harry kept pressing in, loosening him up, as Draco pushed back to find a more comfortable position. He finally settled with his arse slightly pushed out and Harry watched as he fought to stay still—keep the position that would keep him merely uncomfortable, instead of the sharp pain of his balls being pulled back. 

After another minute, Harry pulled out, lubed up the plug and worked it in. Once he had it fully seated, Harry twisted the base to center it, ensuring it would brush Draco’s prostate whenever he moved in just the right way. 

Draco let out a soft whine, and Harry knew he’d found the mark. 

“That’s better,” Harry said, standing up and looking at his husband. 

A deep red flesh spread from his neck down his back and sides. His pert arse was pushed out to alleviate the strain on his balls, the black base of the plug standing out against his pale skin. Harry was already half-hard, but he wanted to wait. There was too much fun to be had first for both of them. 

“Now, what to do with you,” Harry mused, as he cast a quick cleaning charm on his hands and sat down on the sofa. 

Draco’s head spun to look at Harry. He’d likely expected that Harry would move right on to the toys he’d laid out, but tonight was about Draco learning some humility first. 

“Oh, those are for later, pet,” Harry said, flicking his wand and sending them to the end table next to him. He flicked his wand again, levitating the basket over the stuffed chair by the far wall and dumped the contents on the seat. 

Then, he levitated the basket to the other side of the room, near the entryway and set it on the floor. 

“I know you hate that I never fold my t-shirts,” Harry said, watching Draco’s reaction. “I’ve been thinking you’re right, it’ll be much easier to find what I’m looking for if that drawer is organised. So, you can fold them for me.”

Draco looked at the pile of shirts and then the basket a good ten feet away, and Harry could see his jaw twitching with the need to make a snarky comment, but Draco managed to refrain, instead only muttering, “Yes, sir.”

“What was that, pet?”

“Yes. Sir.” Draco replied more clearly. 

“Get to it then,” Harry said as he summoned a Quidditch magazine, opening it as he propped his feet up on the sofa. 

He watched as Draco carefully shuffled to the pile of t-shirts, his balls pulled tight behind him. When he got to the chair, he stayed on all fours and used one hand to pull a few shirts to the floor.

“The floor?” Harry asked. “Really, Draco? Is that how you treat  _ your _ clothes?”

Draco huffed and tossed them back on the chair. Using the chair for leverage, he pulled himself back to a kneeling position, sighing when he found what looked to be a comfortable position. He pushed the shirts to the back of the large stuffed chair, and used the now empty space to fold up one of Harry’s t-shirt. 

As he started to grab a second one, Harry made a tsking noise.

Draco turned.

“One at a time,” Harry said, before looking back down at his Quidditch magazine.

Draco let out a loud sigh and didn’t move. 

Harry put the magazine in his lap. “Do you need a refresher on why you are in this position in the first place, love?”

Draco sighed again, this time sounding resigned. “No, sir.” 

He turned back to the chair and picked up the shirt with both hands, careful to keep it folded, before shuffling across the floor on his knees. Draco kept himself as bent at the waist as he could likely manage without losing balance. 

At several points, a soft moan escaped his lips—Harry guessed the plug had likely hit him in just the right place, jostled from the movement. 

Once Draco placed the shirt in the laundry basket, he dropped down to all fours and crawled back to the shirts, careful to take small strides. 

Harry watched as he repeated this action for the next twenty minutes, shuffling and crawling back and forth across the floor as his balls continued to be pulled tight behind him. Draco’s cock continued to fill out as time went on—likely from a combination of the plug, the stretch of his balls, and the sheer humiliation of the whole activity. 

By the time Draco put the last shirt in the basket, he was rock hard and leaking. Harry wasn’t far off himself either. He’d never tire of Draco—his whip-smart, self-assured, far too posh for his own good husband—submitting to him like this. Where the rest of the world only saw a powerful barrister, always in control, usually a bit snarky, Harry got to have this—Draco letting go of his control, letting his guard fully down, and handing everything over to Harry. It was perfect.

Harry put down the magazine and, pulling his legs down from the sofa, sat forward. “Come here, love.”

Draco looked up, his eyes were already a bit glassy, and his pale skin was flushed. Any defiance was long gone as he crawled over to Harry. 

“You did so well,” Harry said, running a hand down Draco’s back. Draco leaned into the touch with a hum as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Harry leaned down and kissed him gently. “Did you still want to play?” Harry slid off the sofa, sitting back on his heels as he threaded his hand through Draco’s hair, holding it firmly. “Want me to torture your swollen, sore balls? Make you beg for mercy?”

Draco nodded frantically.

“Use your words, pet,” Harry said, tugging his hair harder.

“Yes, yes sir,” Draco panted. “Use me, hurt me.”

Harry felt his cock twitch in his jeans. He leaned over, kissed him firmly and reached out a hand, summoning the toys to him. “Turn around.”

Draco rushed to comply, nearly toppling over. Harry laughed softly and helped him steady himself.

“Please, Harry,” he whined.

Harry ran his hands up Draco’s arse, kneading his firm cheeks, before smacking them in quick succession. Draco let out a deep, rasping moan and pushed back. 

Harry grabbed the riding crop and ran it down his back, along his sides as Draco squirmed from the sensation—fighting his need to pull away. Harry shuffled back, getting into a better position, and then ran the crop along Draco’s crack, along the edges of the plug, before pulling back and flicking his wrist. The little square of leather landed right in the middle of Draco’s arse cheek. 

Harry repeated the motion, speeding up until Draco was panting, his arse cheek blooming a bright red. Harry reached out and kneaded the firm cheek, feeling the heat radiating from the marks, before moving to the other cheek. He rained down slap after slap with the crop. 

Draco dropped to his elbows, and Harry trailed the crop lower, dragging it along his skin with a feather-light touch, until he got to the wood of the humbler. Harry dragged it to his stretched balls, tickling the sensitive skin as Draco whined softly. 

After a moment, Draco pulled forward to escape the teasing sensation and then cried out as his balls pulled tight in the humbler. 

Harry watched as Draco struggled and then forced himself to push back.

Harry dragged the crop along the skin again, before flicking his wrist again, letting the crop fall against Draco’s vulnerable and already abused balls. Harry went far softer than he had on his behind, but the effect was far greater. The sounds escaping Draco became louder, more unrestrained. When Draco’s balls were a deep red, Harry put down the crop and ran a finger along the abused skin. 

Draco babbled something incoherent, and Harry paused. “You still with me, love?” 

“Green, so fucking green, Harry,” Draco whimpered.

Harry chuckled, and picked up the Muggle ping pong paddle. He held it out and shook it loosely in his hand, getting familiar with the weight, but also so that Draco would catch the motion and see what they moved on to. 

Draco whimpered at the sight and buried his face in his arms.

Harry smacked him a few times on the arse but made sure not to hit too hard. While the large flat surface of the paddle had a thin layer of sponge covered with rubber, the paddle was a heavy wood—heavy enough that when Harry had found it at a Muggle resale shop, he knew exactly what he wanted to use it for. But with Draco still in the humbler, Harry wanted to make sure he didn’t hit him hard enough to force the man to startle forward. 

So, after ensuring Draco’s arse stayed nice and red with moderate swings, he lowered the paddle, running the wooden edge and then the textured rubber face along Draco’s balls. The man tensed waiting for what he knew was coming. But Harry continued with the light touches until Draco was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Then, Harry pulled back slightly, and, keeping the paddle only a few inches from its target, launched a quick staccato of abuse on Draco’s trapped, swollen balls. 

Draco cried out. Harry grabbed his hip with his free arm to keep him from trying to pull away to make sure Draco didn’t hurt himself while still locked in the humbler. 

Holding Draco steady, Harry continued to rain down the quick sharp blows until Draco started to go boneless in his arms. 

Then, Harry released the humbler and tossed it to the side. Draco stayed in position, with his arse high, laying on his arms, and Harry trailed the paddle over his arse cheeks. “Think you can take a few more?”

“Yes, Harry,” Draco sighed, clearly past any complaints about the garish Muggle thrift store object touching his skin. 

Harry smiled, and lined up the paddle with Draco’s pert arse, this time not holding back. 

With the humbler off, Harry let his arm relax and landed a hard smack on Draco’s right cheek. 

Draco moaned loudly, pulling forward but then pushing back again, seeking out more. Harry followed with several more whacks before switching sides, enjoying the view as Draco’s arse cheeks bloomed a deeper red, welting in a few spots. He’d be feeling it for a while, and Harry warmed at the thought of him having that constant reminder for the rest of the weekend.

Harry moved on to the back of his thighs, reddening the skin there methodically, making sure to pay close attention to the curve of his arse, the top of his thighs—imagining how Draco would feel in the morning at breakfast, sitting on their hard wood chairs. 

Draco cried out as Harry continued a second pass along the inflamed skin, and then he finally slowed down, before centering the paddle, landing a few light blows to the base of the plug in Draco’s arse. 

“Fuck,” Draco called out. “Oh god—I’m going to come, fuck—”

“Not yet.” Harry reached around, wrapping his hand around the base of Draco’s cock and squeezing. 

Once Draco came back from the edge, Harry tossed the paddle aside, shuffled into position behind the other man, and lifted himself up on his knees. 

Harry was so hard that it hurt—watching his otherwise inhibited and posh husband be reduced to his baser instincts was unbelievably hot. Harry had never known this was what he wanted from a relationship before they started exploring this together, but now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting anything else. He knew Draco felt very much the same.

Harry unzipped his jeans and shoved them down—but not so much that Draco wouldn’t feel the drag of the rough cotton, the sharp zipper against his abused skin. Then, Harry cast a quick lubrication charm, slicking himself up, before slowly pulling out the plug. Draco whimpered as it slid out of his hole.

Harry lined himself up and started to push in. Draco was nice and open from the plug, and Harry slid in easily. 

Draco hissed as Harry bottomed out. The fly of Harry’s jeans was trapped between them, where Harry knew it was pressing harshly against Draco’s sensitive and paddled behind. Harry reached under his hips, rolling Draco’s tender balls in his hand. They were still hot and swollen. 

Harry let go of them and slid his hands back around to Draco’s sides, grasping Draco’s hips. Harry held him tight as he pulled back, nearly all the way out, watching as his cock slid out of Draco’s tight hole. He pushed back in slowly.

“Harry…” Draco whined. “Faster—”

“What was that pet?” Harry dragged his hands over Draco’s arse cheeks, pressing into the abused skin until Draco whimpered. “Who is setting the pace here?”

“You,” Draco panted. “You are, sir.” He buried his face in his arms again and let out a long whine.

Just for that, Harry took the next few strokes even slower, making sure to press their bodies tightly together each time he was fully in as Draco whined and hissed and panted through the sensations. 

Then, without warning, Harry slammed back in and started to set a brutal pace. Draco cried out in relief and propped himself on his elbows, pushing back against Harry.

Harry continued to fuck him roughly, with abandon, until he felt close. Then, he slid his arm around Draco, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s hard, leaking cock and started stroking. Draco fell back down to his arms with a cry. 

“Please Harry,” Draco cried out. “Please can I come?”

Harry kept stroking, letting Draco fight back his orgasm until he was shaking beneath him, before answering. “Come.”

Draco came almost immediately with a shout, collapsing in exhaustion shortly after. 

Harry went with him and started to fuck him into the floor, as Draco writhed beneath him—the relief from his release quickly turning into overstimulation as Harry adjusted the angle and proceeded to pound into his prostate with every thrust. Draco writhed, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensations, but Harry kept him pinned with his body and continued to drive into him. 

As Draco babbled beneath him, Harry felt his orgasm build. Another thrust and Harry was coming, spilling out into Draco’s hole. Harry continued to slide in and out as he worked his way through his orgasm, letting Draco’s hole milk him until he was fully spent and collapsed on top of his husband, kissing the back of his shoulder, the back of his neck. 

After a few minutes, Harry pulled out gently and slid to the side, helping Draco turn to face him.

“You okay?” Harry asked, reaching up and gently stroking Draco’s cheek.

Draco hummed contentedly, a smile on his face. “I’m perfect—so good.”

“Good,” Harry said, pressing a quick kiss to Draco’s lips before checking his watch—it was still early. He then dropped a soft kiss on Draco’s shoulder. “Roll back on your stomach.”

Draco rolled back onto his stomach without so much as a questioning glance; he was all submission at that point. 

Harry reached out, summoning the plug. He gathered some of his come that had leaked out, pushing it back towards Draco’s hole, and worked the plug back in. Draco hummed, not seeming too concerned by the action until Harry twisted it in place, right where it would brush back up against Draco’s prostate. Draco whimpered softly but didn’t complain. 

“Okay, love,” Harry said, kissing his shoulder with a soft smile. “Back on your knees.” 

Draco complied again, but this time looked up at Harry.

“The deal was to wear the humbler for the evening,” Harry reminded him, as he grabbed the wooden device and shuffled behind Draco. “It’s only nine o’clock.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t worry, pet,” Harry cut him off, stroking Draco’s back reassuringly. “We’re all done with the chores. You did so well tonight.” Harry placed the humbler along the top of Draco’s red, abused thighs, pulling a sharp hiss out of the man. He then gently stretched back Draco’s balls, situated them into the device, and locked it up with magic. 

“And since you’re upholding your end of the deal,” Harry continued. “We can play as much as you want all weekend long.” He ran a finger along the red marks on Draco’s arse and upper thighs, before scooting to the side and leaning over, kissing along Draco’s neck and under his ear. 

He reached back and teased Draco’s stretched balls with a light touch, whispering in his ear, “Just imagine how fun these are going to be to play with tomorrow. How sore and sensitive they’ll already be.” 

Draco moaned. “Fuck.” 

They’d take it easy for the rest of the night, but Harry knew even little movements for the rest of the evening would keep Draco’s balls tender and sore. And Harry would have been lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to when it would be time to go to bed—Draco climbing up two flights of stairs in his predicament, how far gone he’d be by the time Harry finally released him, how boneless he’d be as Harry fucked him into their bed later that night. 

Harry smiled, pressing another kiss on his husband’s shoulder, before standing up and moving over to the sofa.

He sat on the far end and patted his lap. “Come on, love.” Draco crawled up on the sofa with some difficulty and curled up with his head on Harry’s lap, sighing softly as Harry pulled the afghan over him. It was going to be a good weekend. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Humble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812572) by [ChuckAl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckAl/pseuds/ChuckAl)




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